The merchants sat down to wait until their supper was brought to them,
and a party of camel-drivers drew round the fire near which Ali had
been sleeping. They raked up its ashes, put on fresh fuel, and then
prepared to boil their rice.
What voice was that which roused Ali just as he was falling asleep
again? He listened, he started to his feet, he looked about him, and
waited for a flash of flame from the fire to fall on the faces of the
camel-drivers who stood around it.
It came flickering up at first, and then all at once blazing out,
flashed upon the camel-driver who stood stooping over it, and lighted up
the face of Ali's father!
The father had waited at Suez many days, wondering why Ali did not come;
and then, thinking there had been some mistake, determined to return
home with the caravan, which was starting for Gaza.
We need hardly describe the joy of both father and son at thus meeting,
nor the pleasure with which the father listened to the history of Ali
the fears and dangers to which his young son had been exposed. He was
glad, too, that their precious Meek-eye had been saved.
There was no one in the whole caravan so happy as Hassan, when, the next
morning, he continued, his journey to Gaza in company with Meek-eye and
his beloved son Ali.
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